Happenstance
by FightForLife
Summary: Jille Trevelyan never asked to be a mage. She never asked for the demonic Anchor on her hand or for the title Inquisitor, either, and she certainly didn't ask for a man named Cullen - a former Templar, no less - to wander so often into her thoughts. But like it or not, these things are true, and whether they're divined by fate or purely happenstance... well, this is yet to be seen.
1. Chapter 1

**[Intended to be a series of mostly romance-oriented one shots between a Female Mage Inquisitor and Commander Cullen (with a fair amount of action/adventure mixed in) following the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition as I make my way through the game :3**

**I hope you enjoy! Note: Dialogue will not always be directly from the game, as I'll probably write these a while after I finish the part in the game that each chapter features, and also because I like to alter dialogue sometimes so it better fits my character's personality.**

**Also, CONTAINS SPOILERS (obviously)!]**

Cullen had been in a lot of shite situations over the past ten years of his life, and the one thing he couldn't help but notice was that whenever things turned for the worst he could see it in the sky. Like when the Mage-Templar War began in Kirkwall – then, the sky was thick and black with storm clouds. Then when he was trapped in the Fereldan Circle during the Fifth Blight, he was imprisoned so close to the top of the tower yet never once saw the sky from inside his magical cage. He remembered that the sound of wind hitting the tower bricks alongside the absence of clouds and fresh air was almost mocking. And of course, there's another example of his troubles being reflected in the heavens, the most prominent of all – the sickly green Breach that the Inquisition had just now gotten to closing. Not an hour had passed since he'd watched the Herald walk back into camp with Cassandra and Solan, since he'd looked to the sky and seen scars, yes, but no demons or rips in the Fade. He'd had so much hope then… But now, the sky tore this hope to shreds. What did it look like?

Red as Andraste's flame, decorated by the torches of an approaching army and the glow of demonic lyrium crusting templar bodies, and holding a dragon.

A blighted _dragon._

Cullen stood at the ready outside the Chantry door, sword in one hand, beckoning citizens in with the other. "Get inside! Move, move, move!" He shouted, eyes racing frantically across what was once the town of Haven but was quickly becoming a battlefield. He counted faces and listed names that he saw run past him, but a few key people were nowhere to be found. Dorian, Sera, the Iron Bull, and their "Herald"…. Jille. _Where are they? _He thought, gritting his teeth and squinting against the brightness and heat of the fires around him. _They should be back by now! _

Then he heard a familiar sound – the clash of steel. Looking to his right, he saw the quartermaster, Thrynn, attacking one of the monstrous templars, and at her side were the very people Cullen had been looking for. A chain whipped from nowhere as Sera grappled onto Thrynn's target, flying through the air to deliver him a swift kick to the face, and the ground shook as Iron Bull struck one of the man's allies a death blow. Though Dorian was not within range, you could tell he wasn't far behind – as a confused templar stumbled away from his fallen friends he walked straight into a magical mine that swallowed him in fire. Then the Tevinter joined the group, jumping over the charred body of his victim as sprightly as ever and giving his staff a flourish before he latched it onto his back.

"That's the last one – at least, within the immediate future." The mage said with a grumble and brushed his hands off on his cloak. Cullen sneered at his attitude, but this was no time to scold him for being nonchalant.

"Get into the Chantry, now! It's our best shot at safety from that thing!" He yelled as he locked eyes with the beast flying through their sky. Sera and Dorian obliged, scurrying inside, but the Iron Bull stopped in the doorway.

"Wait – the boss!"

The commander's eyes widened as he turned back to the ruined town. That's right... Where was Jille?

"There!" Bull shouted and pointed off. Following his hand, Cullen's breath caught in his throat as he saw her. Running up in a haze of fire and lightning, Jille swung her staff through the air, frying a horde of following templars in an instant. It was clear to see what had taken her so long – in the arm that wasn't holding her weapon she had a woman cradled against her shoulder. The girl was unconscious and ragged but visibly breathing, and as Jille approached she threw her charge into the arms of the Bull. Cullen stood still for a moment, shocked, taking her in with a mixture of relief, worry and confusion.

The Herald looked to him and yelled, "Get inside!" Luckily, that's all it took to snap him out of it.

_Thud! _The echo of the Chantry's closing doors bounced across the walls. They were safe, if only for an instant – the roar of fire and foe could still be heard from outside, and on the inside, things were already getting tense.

"This place won't hold for long!" Jille shouted, guiding Bull to the other villagers so he could give the sleeping woman to a healer.

"Well, that much is clear!" Dorian said with a roll of his eyes.

From the ceiling or Maker knows where, Sera dropped into the middle of the group. "I didn't sign up for this shite! Whatever happened to 'close the Breach and live happy ever after'?"

"I don't think that was ever really the plan," The Iron Bull grumbled as he rejoined the group.

"Well, maybe not _exactly, _but still!" The elf snapped.

"QUIET!"

Walking into the center of the group, Cassandra looked to her fellows with gritted teeth. Jille drew back at the sound of her yell, stiffening up on instinct. Seeing the movement, the Seeker approached her with a grimace and pointed one finger in the mage's face. "Think. Now." And she disappeared back into the crowd.

Jille swallowed hard. _Come on. This is no time to be that scared little Circle girl. You can do this. _Clenching her fists, she went to the middle of the room, looking to her companions and then locking eyes with Cullen.

"How are our options?"

"Slim. Very slim." The commander said, crossing his arms and looking down.

"This building is stone, better than most would be at resisting fire, but even it can't withstand a dragon – let alone the army of crazed templars that'll be preceding it."

"Don't tell me that all these people are going to die, Cullen! There must be something we can do!"

He looked up. Jille was covered with ash and blood, her pale skin and bright orange hair marred by her efforts on the battlefield, but even now her golden eyes shone. She didn't like to talk about her time in the Circle, but he knew enough of how she'd grown up. He knew that she was a woman of little faith, and Maker's breath, she had reason to be. Yet here she was, clinging to whatever hope she had left to get them through, to find a way to get them all through. Telling her the truth of their fates now seemed harder than anything he'd ever done.

"If we want to hit them back, the best thing we can do is try another avalanche. Bury as many as we can."

"And bury the village along with them?" The Herald asked back, eyes widening. Her brows pierced down as her prim mouth twisted into a scowl. "Bury all of these villagers? We can't –"

"We're dying, but we get to choose how we die. Most don't get that luxury."

Jille didn't want to believe it, but as Cullen's words resonated in her mind, she realized the truth to them. She looked down, ashamed of her misplaced anger. However, some of her still held on to that same foolish hope. "Is there nothing we can do to save them?"

A cough and a weak word drifted into their ears – "I…"

The two turned to see Chancellor Rodrick, held up by the strange boy that had warned them of the attack. Cullen narrowed his eyes at the two – of anyone in the room, they were the last people he'd trust with a solution to their problem – but held his tongue as they spoke.

"He wants to help," the boy said plainly, keeping his face hidden beneath the brim of his hat.

Chancellor Rodrick was deathly pale. One stream of blood escaped from the side of his mouth and a fevered sweat dripped along his forehead, but somehow, his eyes were clear. "There is… a passage. Out of the Chantry, you can use it to… to save the villagers. Get them out while you can."

"You would help us?" Jille said skeptically, raising one brow at the man.

"I would help the people!" He spat back – however, his words were not said with anger but with fervor. "Save as many as you can!"

He coughed again, and the boy helped him sit back down.

Cullen and Jille looked to each other. If this passage was real – and they had no reason to believe it wasn't – it could be their salvation. But that was only ifthe villagers had enough time to get away, and an appropriate distraction to keep the templars and demons off their tail.

Cullen stared into space, falling into his mind, thinking a million miles an hour on how to get them out of this. However, only seconds after hearing the Chancellor's words, Jille had already decided what she would do. Clenching her fists to strengthen her resolve, she looked up at Cullen. His eyes were now closed and he was concentrating hard, giving her the opportunity she needed to get a good, long look at him, one last time.

"I'll start the avalanche – you make sure everyone gets through the passage."

The man's eyes flew open as he turned to her. "But how will you get back?"

Jille smiled.

Cullen's face fell, his body going cold. But before he could protest, Jille was shouting orders and gathering her supplies.

"Bull, Sera, Dorian! Come with me, I'll need backup! I'll make sure you have time to get back before I hit the mountain. Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, start guiding people through the tunnels. Cullen, make sure these three," she said, pointing to the Iron Bull and the rest of the companions she was taking with her, "make it back before the passage is closed." She held his gaze with her own. The man didn't know what to say. It took him a moment to find the words, and when he did, she was halfway out the door.

"You might have time to return. There could still be…" The girl silenced him with a look, determined but calm, another low smile.

"I'm choosing how I die."

Cullen froze… and then, she was gone.

Jille and her partners sprinted through the village, heading for the trebuchet, Sera swinging along by her chains and Bull rampaging at the fore, knocking down any templars that stood in their way. Dorian and Jille brought up the rear, slower but not by much – the group was an unstoppable force of celerity and strength. But as they ran, Dorian couldn't help the nerves that wracked his brain and turned to the Herald.

"And you're sure we'll make it out?"

Jille glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, strands of short red hair whipping across her face from the wind. "I'll give you three the time to get back! Don't worry!"

"And you're _sure _you want to go through with this?"

She smirked. "What? People don't go on crazy suicide missions in Tevinter?" She said with dry humor as they leapt over a fallen templar and turned the corner. The trebuchet came into view.

"But don't you care about your life? _At all?_"

Now only meters away from the base of the machine, Jille stopped, and the others crowded around her, awaiting her battle plan – however, Dorian was still awaiting his question's answer.

Jille sighed.

"My life's never meant much, anyway. I spent most of it in a Circle - I did nothing of purpose, only idle tasks to keep my teachers happy, to keep my head down, to keep me seeming sedate to the Templars. I never spoke out when I saw something wrong or tried to change anything I thought was unjust. I thought the only way to live was to kneel… But that's not living."

She turned to the side, looking to the mountains and the dragon in the sky.

"Now, I've been given power. I may not have asked for it, but I have it, and I don't have the option to stay idle any more. And this man… This 'Elder One', whoever he is, now _he's_ asking the world to kneel."

She looked back to Dorian with a grin.

"If it meant the world could live in a way I haven't, I'd give up my own measly chances to any day."

The other mage stood stunned, watching as Jille readied her staff and turned to the other two to give her orders and then receiving his own. He trotted ahead of the group as instructed, but couldn't help but look back and take one last glance at the girl.

Jille stared straight ahead, hands clenched tight against the weapon in her hands. _That's right. My own, measly life… So people can truly live. Dennet, Mineave, Cassandra, Lelianna, Solan…. _

A moment flashed through her mind. When exactly it had happened she couldn't remember; it could've been days or weeks ago. There were so many moments she'd had just like this one, after all. For some reason, though, this particular afternoon stood out from the rest. She was standing amongst the soldiers, watching them train, turned slightly to the side to see her partner in conversation. His blonde hair was combed back and shimmered in the sun as his chiseled jaw jutted forward in pride – he was speaking of his charges, of the hard work they'd put in in the name of the Inquisition. His eyes glittered with excitement as he talked, showing a giddiness uncharacteristic of the usually serious man. Then, he realized his joy and looked back down, maintaining his composure. And he looked to the side – at her.

Jille closed her eyes. That would be her moment – the moment she'd keep in her final thoughts. The moment to keep her going until the end of the line.


	2. Chapter 2

When he watched Jille shut the door to the Chantry, part of Cullen wanted to throw it right back open and run out after her; he even felt his hand reaching forward for the handle as he stood at the door. It took everything else in his mind, everything he had to keep from doing so. He reminded himself of his mission and, looking back at the citizens that Lelianna, Josephine and Cassandra were filing out of the building, of the people he was responsible for. He reminded himself that the Herald was not one of those people, and that he had no rightful reason to _make_ her one of them. That she was a force for the Inquisition, not a friend. That she was doing the right thing. He told himself over and over that he couldn't change her decision, and that it was what was best… But yet, as he heard the heavy fist of the Bull at the door minutes later and opened it to find everyone in attendance _except _for Jille, it still took more willpower than he thought he had not to jump into the chaos outside the Chantry walls.

He guided them back along the path the others had taken without a word, shutting his mind and making himself cold so he could focus on the task at hand. The four reunited with the rest of their party and began the trek out of Haven through Chancellor Rodrick's "passage" - a series of stone-carved underground tunnels that had been built and used by the old Dragon Cultists that used to occupy the village. They crammed the tunnels to the brim with civilians and soldiers trudging along, some carrying possessions they'd salvaged or wounded family members, others holding nothing at all, having lost everything to the fire… But no matter how each person varied in health or harm, they all shared two things in common; their freezing and their fear. The howling winds and snow of the mountain leaked through the cracks in the stone around them, chilling each villager to the bone despite the thick walls and mass of feverish bodies among them… and soon, they heard a boom, a crash, and the tumbling of ice and rock. At that, the Inquisition's Inner Circle all stopped. It was a harrowing sound. With it, they knew that their Herald had accomplished her task…. And most likely, had not survived it. Lelianna put her head down and said a prayer as she continued to walk, Cassandra tried her best to look back ahead with her same old steely expression and Josephine tightened her grip around the message board she still held desperately in her hands. Varric's breath caught for a moment, his shoulders quaking at the sound, but he looked away, cursed, put one hand on Bianca for comfort – or perhaps, to comfort Bianca - and kept walking. Solas and Blackwall glanced between each other, a rare moment of connection between the two where despite all their differences, the Warden and the elf knew they were feeling exactly the same thing. Vivienne closed her eyes, refusing to show any emotion. And Sera, the Iron Bull and Dorian all stared straight ahead – having been the last people to see her, they knew very well how Jille died, what state she'd been in and whether or not it had been a peaceful end, and none of the answers to these questions were the ones that they wanted.

Cullen didn't allow himself to grieve. He didn't even allow himself to think.

An hour and a half later they reached the end of the tunnels, and the first thing anyone did as they met the open sky was look back at where they'd come from. No matter how traumatized they felt after what happened at Haven they still wanted to see it – it was almost sick, the way they turned their heads to gawk once they broke from the cramped safety of their escape route. Unluckily for them, or perhaps luckily, there was nothing to look at. Where Haven once stood there was nothing but snow. Not even any wreckage for the refugees to mourn having lost.

There was no choice but to continue.

They marched through the Frostback Mountains for another two hours before they decided to make camp, wanting to get as much distance between them and whatever might've remained of the templar army as possible. Then, once they were safe – if you could call it that – Cassandra did what she did best. She reminded the people that no matter what tears they shed or wounds they had, if they were alive, there was work to be done and no time to waste. With her booming voice and curt commands she ordered the able bodied through the campsite and built it up around her. The only change in her that anyone could see was that maybe, just maybe, her words were a little _more _curt than usual. A little tenser, briefer; with more power but less conviction. However, it was still enough conviction to command the rest of the group, so the stunned villagers, almost grateful for the direction and purpose of being bossed around, obeyed. Lelianna and Josephine set about their individual tasks, the spy scrounging up what was left of her agents to scout the surrounding area and the ambassador already sending out messengers to contacts that might be able to assist the Inquisition, but Cullen, whose forces were either too injured to move or commanded by the Seer to help set up camp, had nothing to do. So he walked away from the group, set up his personal tent, got inside and sat.

Then, for the first time since he'd left Haven, he allowed himself to think.

_Why did she have to die? _Sitting square upon his cot, Cullen buried his head in his hands and tugged angrily at his hair. He stared hard into the ground until his eyes grew sore, his teeth grinding against each other as he struggled to keep his jaw from shaking. _Why was it HER that had to die?_

_Anyone could've done it. I could've… I SHOULD have been the one to start the avalanche! Why didn't I do anything? Why didn't I stop her? And why in the name of the MAKER did she volunteer?! _

"Jille…" The name fell from his lips before he could stop it. It wasn't a sob or a cry, just a statement; something that needed to be said. However, as he heard it hit the air, it did nothing but drive his pain even harder into his chest. It reminded him of what she was, what she had been. She wasn't only a mage, or only their Herald, only a member of the Inquisition, only a Trevelyan. She was a girl named Jille who didn't deserve to die.

Keyword: "was".

"Jille." He said it again, gritting his teeth to keep the sound inside and as quiet as possible. He'd never spoken her name when he had the chance - it was always "Trevelyan" or "Herald", or even "prisoner". Why hadn't he called her by name? Why hadn't he pulled her back inside the Chantry the moment she said she would leave? Millions of "whys" raced through his mind, frantic and wild as Fereldan coursers on a battlefield, with one cynical, screaming "why" trumping them all.

Why do we only ever know what we want when it's gone?

Cullen slammed his palms against the side of his head, trying to get a grip, to stop the running whys, to push out the memories from just four hours ago that kept flooding his mind. Ha! Memories. Like he didn't have enough shitty ones of those to last a lifetime. Add this to the list of things to give him nightmares, then… But no. This didn't belong on any list. Apart from his memories of the Circle and Kirkwall, this was on another level entirely. A memory that stood above all others.

Suddenly a new memory popped into his head. Well, not new – old. Months past. The first time he and Jille met.

"_This is our official Inquisition ambassador, Josephine Montilyet, and our military chief, Commander Cullen Rutherford. You already met Lelianna." Cassandra listed, looking between each person named and the woman standing at her right. Cullen stared the girl down, keeping his face unreadable._

"_Pleased to meet you all." She said._

_The man then narrowed his eyes. THIS was the dangerous prisoner, the one who'd walked out of the Fade and been marked by the Breach? This meek little girl? He looked her up and down with a skeptical glance. With her milky white skin and the shadows beneath her eyes, she looked as if she were some nocturnal cave dweller who'd only just stepped into the sunlight for the first time. Her golden eyes glittered like coins, but they were downcast – though she said "pleased to meet you", it sounded more like a "please don't hurt me". Was this really their best hope for closing the world-threatening hole in the sky?_

"_And you," Cullen said along with his companions. As he turned back to the Seeker, the girl's eyes caught his. For a moment, they almost looked curious, and the former templar raised one questioning brow, but on seeing this the woman froze and then hastily looked back to Cassandra. _

_Cullen sneered. If SHE was the only way to seal the Breach, they were all most likely doomed. _

_After the war meeting, Cullen began to walk back to the gate to supervise his troops. As he did he passed the prisoner, who, upon seeing his approach, quickly walked in the opposite direction. At this the commander grimaced once again. What was she, a frightened rabbit? Lelianna noticed this exchange and the irritation on Cullen's face and stepped up to his side._

"_Not fond of our new partner?" She said, her heavy Orlesian accent lilting up in curiosity._

"_Partner? Is that what she is, now?" The man asked pointedly. "Isn't she a suspect for the Divine's murder as well?"_

"_Well, yes. Nobody knows what happened at the Conclave, not even her, so it is a possibility. But whether we like it or not, she can close Rifts, so a partner is what she is – or what we must make her. No?"_

"_Hmm. I prefer 'prisoner' to 'partner' at this point. The word 'partner' implies someone of equal strength and ability to yourself. Her only strength seems to be fleeing at the sight of me. Why is that, anyway? I'm not that intimidating, am I?"_

_Lelianna gave a small smile and a funny look to the general. "Cullen. You're an ex-templar."_

"_And?"_

_Her smile turned into a toothy smirk. "You DO remember that she's a mage, right?"_

"_Ah." Cullen's face went blank. In all of the hubbub, he'd actually forgotten. So she was a mage, and one who'd been at the Conclave, meaning… His face twisted to distaste. "One of the rebels, then?"_

_Lelianna shrugged. "Apparently. But she seems different from the rest, don't you think? Not sharing their boldness… or bloodlust."_

"_So you think she's a loyalist? But why would a loyalist mage be at the Conclave?" He asked, now more confused than angry._

_The agent's toothy smirk returned. "I don't think she's a loyalist, either. Perhaps she could be something in between."_

"_In between? The mages and templars are at war. Wars have sides – if they didn't, they wouldn't be wars. To be at the Conclave she was clearly on SOMEONE'S side, and once you pick a side, there is no 'in between'. Right?"_

_The woman said nothing, but her smirk remained, even as she walked away. The sight of it stuck in Cullen's mind. Damn Nightingale - just because she was a spymaster didn't mean she had to be so cryptic all the time._

_Oh well. The best way to answer his questions was to ask her; though he knew it was rather uncouth to just ask, at the moment she seemed so scared of him that no matter what he'd say he was sure she'd be more terrified than offended. Might as well used that fear he caused in her to his advantage. He headed back into the Chantry, walking the path the girl had taken until he saw her once again, near a bookcase._

"_Excuse me, ma'am—" What was her name again? Maker's breath, first he forgets she's a mage and then he forgets her name. It seemed the only thing unforgettable about her was her hallowed appearance. Ah, wait, that was it. It was… Jille, Jille Trevelyan. From the Trevelyan noble house in the Free Marches. That's probably why he'd forgotten she was a mage; he always disassociated mages and nobility, though both were equally distasteful to him. "Lady Trevelyan. A word, if I may."_

_At the sound of his voice, she jumped, the book she was pulling from the shelf dropping to the floor. Cullen took a moment to look at it. "The Andrastian Way: An Examination of the Psychology and Philosophies of the Maker's Children". His same skeptical brow rose once again. An interesting choice. _

"_Y... Yes, Commander Cullen?" She said, stiffening her posture until she was straight as an arrow._

"_Yes. Well. It's not anything serious, don't worry, I…" Weird. Now that he was actually talking he felt strangely awkward about it - and about that nervous "baby halla" look she was giving him. Sympathy for the girl struck him for the first time, him understanding the position she must be in. Then he returned to sense; he needn't feel sympathy, after all. Whether she had control of her position or not, it was her responsibility to rise to the challenge, and if she couldn't do that she was less than useless to the Inquisition. Her fear of him would need to be nipped in the bud as soon as possible if she was to perform her duties successfully. _

"_I am aware that you are a mage, and that this is why you were at the Conclave. Are you a part of the Rebellion, then?"_

_Surprised at his question, Jille's face became blank. Then, she opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then, she opened it again, only to close it once more. She was thinking hard. Finally she spoke, in a quiet but measured voice. "Yes and no."_

_First Lelianna with her "in betweens", now this? "What do you mean, 'yes and no'?"_

"_Well, I technically was. But now I'm a part of this – the Inquisition." She stated plainly._

_Cullen's eyes widened for a moment. A surprisingly firm answer. However, the first part of her sentence Cullen still held issue with. "But you were a part of the Rebellion, then?"_

"_I… Yes. But not a rebel."_

"_Not a rebel? How can you be part of the Rebellion and not be a rebel? If you didn't want to REBEL, why wouldn't you submit yourself to the Templars after the breaking of the Circles, be a loyalist mage?"_

_The more questions he asked, the more he saw her fear fading. He didn't know why; she was still a rebel mage and he a former templar no matter how confusing her story was and how many questions it invoked, so why should she be standing taller now than she did at the start? Perhaps it was because she was being asked these questions at all – he wasn't just dismissing her. Or maybe it was because now, for the first time in her life, she had answers she wasn't afraid to give. Jille looked him straight in the face with those same glittering eyes, once downcast but now strong and stern as unforgiving sunlight._

"_I never wanted this war. I would never have asked for this kind of bloodshed... And I could have survived in the Circles, had they all stayed together. But they broke, and now, survival is out here. And so is freedom."_

"_Freedom? Then you are a rebel, if you want…"_

"_If I want freedom." She smiled sadly. Cullen's heart hit the front of his chest, leaping at the sight of it and leading to even greater confusion for the man than that he was already feeling. _

"_Freedom's always been an unattainable dream. Frankly, I'm just waiting to wake up." She looked to the floor, at her book, and picked it up, placing it back in its hole._

"_Ah. Yes. Then… That will be all. If you'll excuse me." He walked away. Both his mind and his heart were racing at what they'd just seen. He couldn't shake the sight of those hard golden eyes._

A couple of days later, she'd visited him at the barracks. She'd reverted to her initial, timid state somewhat, although not nearly as shivering and shy as before, and she'd come to apologize for her "rudeness". Cullen still couldn't fathom why; if anything, he was the one who had been rude. But he accepted her apology and could remember wondering what an odd girl she was as he watched her leave. From then on he watched her comings and goings throughout the camp, listening to the citizens of Haven whisper of her adventures and spread the title and tales of "the Herald of Andraste". However, outside of meetings with the war council, he and Jille didn't speak much. In fact, Jille barely spoke to anyone at all - it seemed the only one in the entire camp she was comfortable talking to was Solas. Cullen simply watched her, although he would catch himself when he did and scold himself for his interest. Then one day she visited him in the barracks again. This time, just to talk. He had been surprised at the questions she asked about the templar order and his recruits and himself, and even more surprised at the way he seemed eager to respond. She was still rather withdrawn, but the fact that she'd even made an effort to speak with him excited him for some reason. Then she started visiting him more and more frequently, always with new questions to ask. He soon learned that as meek as she seemed, her inquisitive nature could make her bold – befitting a member of something called the Inquisition. She got more and more comfortable with him, and he with her, and then she with all the other members of the camp, until seeing her laugh or smile wasn't a rare occurrence anymore. He watched her grow and become stronger. He watched her develop strengths to benefit their cause and create a place for herself within the Inner Circle. He had always been watching her… just somewhere along the way, it turned into a different kind of watching.

Aside from that first meeting, she never talked about herself – whenever Cullen asked questions about her in return for the ones she asked about him, she always dodged them. The questions would just sit in his mind unanswered, and eventually he'd forget about them in exchange for an intriguing point or funny quip she'd make in conversation. But now they would never get their answers. They and the whys joined forces to assault him as he fell out of his reverie and found himself staring at the ground. He shut his eyes, hard – but just as he thought all the questions would break him, a voice hit the air.

"Cullen?"

His head shot up. It was Lelianna. How long had she been standing there?

"Are you alright? You've been sitting here for an hour."

"Hmm?" His jaw was stiff from the way he'd been holding it. Had it really been an hour? It seemed so much shorter than that. In fact, everything seemed to be going faster – all of his actions from the time they left Haven on were a complete blur and passed through his mind in seconds. It was hard to distance yourself from the world and your mind and not lose time in between.

"I'm…." What was he supposed to say – fine? Could anyone have been fine after what just happened? He sighed, rubbing the side of his aching jaw with one hand and looking into the distance past the open slit in the tent where the Nightingale stood. "We lost Haven."

Lelianna looked down. "Yes." She was blaming herself, Cullen knew.

"And the Herald."

"Yes."

"To an army of Templars. _Demonic _Templars. Under no flag."

"Yes."

"With a dragon."

"….Yes."

Cullen needed to get a grip. He hurt more than he knew he had right to and than he ever thought he could have, but he needed a handle on this situation. Any handle, really. "Where do we go from here, then?"

Lelianna faced him again. "We're ready to find that out whenever you are."

He stood, brushing his hands off against his knees and wiping away more than just dirt. "I'm ready now. Let's go."

Lelianna opened the tent for him and they stepped out together. Cullen looked around for a moment – an hour really had passed. Everything was so much more put together now. Tents were up, healers were beginning their work, soldiers were establishing posts and refugees were milling about, some with purpose and some without. You'd almost think it was a standing settlement instead of a makeshift camp, were it not for the meager quantity and quality of their supplies. Lelianna pointed across the camp to where Josephine was standing. She saw them and gave a small wave, but her expression was just as grim as anyone else's in the area.

"Where's Cassandra?" Cullen asked as they began to walk over.

"She and some of the men formed a search party."

"To search for what?"

"The Herald."

Cullen looked away from the woman. "Her body, you mean."

Lelianna stiffened up. Guilt, shame and anger drove her rigid, but she knew when she didn't have a word to say. Besides – they'd already reached Josephine.

"Commander Cullen. Glad you could join us." The Antivan said in a testy manner.

"If you're at all _glad _under these circumstances, I'm worried about your mental health." He spat back.

"I am only relieved that no more time will be _wasted_ now that you are out from your 'hidey hole'. Shall we begin?"

He glared at the woman. However, just as he was about to say something he'd regret, shouting came from the camp's entrance.

In a flash Cullen had his sword drawn, ready for Templars or dragons or whatever the Maker might be throwing at him – this had been too long of a day for him not to be ready to kill whatever might cross his path. It took a moment for the actual words of the shouting to hit him.

"They found her!" "And she's alive?" "Maker!" "It's her!"

Cullen's sword fell from his hand.

Cassandra walked into the camp with her men, placating and pushing aside hoarding villagers with each step, but one of the soldiers held something astonishing in his arms – a limp, pale body, covered in gashes and bruises…. But breathing.

Jille.


	3. Chapter 3

Murmurs flew through the air the second Jille's feeble body crossed the barrack's border. Surprise and joy spread like wildfire, and in the seconds between when Cassandra arrived and when she walked through the camp to place the girl on a healer's cot, people were already spouting stories about Andraste's holy flame guiding their Herald through the snow. No one thought for a second that her escaping the avalanche and being found again might be simple coincidences – to them, it was all providence. If anyone held any doubt in their mind about whether or not the woman was some kind of "chosen one", it was wiped out the second she rose from the dead to return to her people.

True, she had never been "dead" in the first place, and her "returning to her people" was due more to the skill of the search party's trackers than any effort on her part, but still. The citizens of the Inquisition needed a sign, and this was it.

As to Jille's thoughts on the matter, she wasn't sure.

The woman had always struggled with faith; even faith as a normal, irreligious concept, the kind where you have to place your trust in others unconditionally. Therefore, as you might imagine, Andrastian faith was a whole other can of worms for her. And this isn't even taking into account how she was raised. Growing up in a Circle, you're taught the Chant of Light in a way that makes it seem as much a disciplinary code as a religious text - "Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him," "Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children," "The only holy path for a dangerous mage is Tranquility" and so on and so forth, edicts crammed into her head by unforgiving Sisters and Mothers who'd rather scrub the floors of the Chantry than hang around scrawny, hollow-eyed mage girls, shouted and echoed back by the Circle Tower's stone walls so many times that it became hard for her to remember whether they were commandments or threats. It was punishment, not religion, and even if it hadn't been none of the ramblings ever made much sense to her anyways. If the Maker didn't want mages to be powerful, why did he give them such power? If the Maker sat in the Golden City for so long just waiting to see what his children would do, why weren't mages allowed to do the only things they _could _do? And if the Maker loved and wanted the best for his children, why were mages locked in Circles? Abused by Templars? Kept in silence? Made Tranquil?

So no, she was not a woman of faith. Apparently, she was just a woman of very, very, _very _dumb luck.

Now, the very, very, very dumbly lucky girl sat in the snow on the brink of camp. The light of the campfire was far away but shone faintly against her back, casting her shadow forward and blending it with the darkness she stared into. She held her knees to her chest and clutched her arms against them so tight that she could feel herself shaking, but not because of the cold; because of the tune.

She hadn't sung it with the others before, when they'd broken out in song…. But now, it haunted her.

"Shadows fall, and hope has fled…" The girl whispered to the moon.

"Steel your heart, the dawn will come."

Jille shuddered as a face flew through her mind, melted and contorted like flesh after fire. Corypheus.

She'd told Cassandra and the others of the new threat they faced and what they were up against with him. They hadn't even _seen _him and she knew they were already terrified. Of course, she was terrified too. She'd stood her ground in the heat of the moment and stared that darkspawn scum straight in the eye, but now, looking back on it, having memories of he and his army swarm her vision, she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

She'd seen him ride away from the avalanche. His forces were gone, but they'd be back. And in no small numbers, either.

With that kind of threat, would the dawn really come?

"The night is long, and the path is dark." Jille continued. Her arms kept squeezing harder and harder, her nails pressing into the flesh along her bicep until they drew blood.

"Look to the sky, for one day soon… The dawn will come."

The woman's mind held her so fully that she didn't notice another shadow rise up alongside her own – a person had walked up behind her. It was Cullen. He was back to watching the Herald as he always did, except now, it seemed a miracle that he was seeing her at all. Just standing there made his heart pound in his chest. She was alive. She was _alive. _Somehow, through her own willpower or divine intervention or Maker knows what, she'd survived. After leaving the Chantry, he'd had so little hope… No, that wasn't true. He'd had no hope at all. The second he saw the Bull's bleak expression and the absence of a fourth in the returning party he'd considered her dead. But now she wasn't, and he had no idea what to do with himself. In the hours she'd been away, he'd felt… Well, he'd _felt_ more than he thought people were supposed to feel in a lifetime. He'd looked at her memory in a way he was always too afraid to look at the real person, and learned things about himself he never would have realized if she'd remained by his side. Mainly, one thing. One very, very dangerous thing; the fact that he'd risk everything he had to make sure she was never hurt again.

He knew it was wrong to feel this way, being the commander of the Inquisition. He had too many responsibilities to care so much for one person. Every day he was in battles that could change the course of the world, making decisions that could cost people their lives and homes, fighting for the delicate balance of good and evil... It was too high stakes of a job to get distracted. But still. How _much _he wanted her as his distraction, it scared him. Genuinely scared him.

For a moment more, he stood near her on the outside of the camp. The sight of her thin, fragile back curled up in the snow, the way the light danced against the amber of her choppy, boyish hair, the way the snow rolled off of her delicate shoulders as it fell. Before he knew it he had one hand out reaching for her, just like back at the Chantry when she'd closed the doors on him for good. However, as he heard her singing begin again, he stopped.

"The shepherd's lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come…. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come."

Her voice was weak, a tiny alto rumble, and it cracked as she swallowed back her fear and insecurity. It froze Cullen in his tracks. It reminded him of his responsibilities, and of hers. What would he say if he grabbed onto her? Nothing - or at least, nothing that would do anything beyond satisfy his own selfish desires. All his words would do would be distract the Herald from her duties. And now that people were holding her in such high regard, she'd certainly have a lot more of those… She had just warned them of Corypheus, too, and in the morning she would be at the head of the party with Solas, guiding them to the new Inquisition location the elf had in mind. If Cullen could even find a way to put the havoc in his mind into words, what good would it do to say them to her? None. He'd only be an obstruction.

Besides… He had a feeling he knew what she would say back.

"Bare your blade and raise it high, stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark…"

The general let his hand fall away.

"Look to the sky, for one day soon… the dawn will come."

As she finished her song, Jille felt a change in the wind behind her – she didn't feel as much of a breeze against her back. However, when she turned around, there was nobody there.

The woman sighed and looked back into the darkness. Through the blue-black of the sky you could just barely see the white outline of the Frostback Mountains surrounding them, ascending and descending along the horizon. Jille may not have believed in the Chantry's words, but she knew them well - they said that Havard the Aegis carried Andraste's ashes all the way from Tevinter to here, to these mountains specifically, thinking them the best possible place for the Maker's Bride to stare into her husband's heavens. _He could have picked any mountain range in the world, but he picked this one,_ Jille thought and closed her eyes. _And if I think about it, these mountains' conveniently placed caverns saved my life when I jumped into them. And I definitely could have frozen to death when I was walking back through the snow, yet somehow, I didn't. The Frostbacks have something special to them, I'll say that… Just like people seem to think I have something special to me. _She opened her eyes again, this time staring into the stars. She didn't feel special. Mostly, she felt weak. She wasn't strong enough to save Haven, she wasn't strong enough to kill Corypheus, Maker's breath, she'd only just recently become strong enough to speak her mind in front of people, and she _still _wasn't strong enough to come clean with Cullen about her confusing, twisting feelings for him. If she couldn't do any of that, how was she special? How could she face this threat? And how the HECK had a faithless twerp like her gotten stuck with the title "Herald of Andraste"?

"Maker, if you're real, and this is your idea of some weird, sick joke… Very funny. Seriously. Hilarious." She grumbled and turned away from the sky.

"But… even if I'm not strong, or brave, or faithful… I'm here. And it looks like I'm the one everyone expects to do the job. So, I'd better do it. Right?"

Jille stood up, brushing the residual snow from her legs and stretching for a moment before hesitantly looking back at the sky. The mage was still terrified of the events to come, and still thought of herself as the worst possible person to pick as some kind of inspiring religious icon, but the sight of the mountains snapped her back to what she could hold on to – the facts.

As weak as she was, she had so many people around her – friends – who'd made her stronger. The fact that she could even call them friends was growth in itself; if she was still the same girl she'd been in the Circle, she'd be too shell shocked to dare making anything more than an acquaintance. But now, she did have friends, and working alongside them had allowed her power and resolve to grow tenfold. From here, there was nowhere to go but up. And besides - she'd gotten this far, right?

"Alright, Corypheus. Kill me once, shame on you. Kill me twice…." The woman laughed. Then, with a small, comfortable smile growing larger and larger on her face, she turned back in the direction of the camp and trotted away. Wherever he was, she wanted to get a glimpse of Cullen before bed. She didn't want to _talk_ to him about anything – she wasn't nearly that brave yet – but she knew that just seeing him would give her more of that strength her friends inspired. And the strength he gave her was the best kind of all.


	4. Chapter 4

After the destruction of both Haven and its inhabitants' morale, the Inquisition desperately needed a pick-me-up. Of course, the rapidly spreading story of the Herald of Andraste being risen from the dead by the Maker after facing down an evil darkspawn didhelp on that front, but even that didn't change the fact that the people of Haven were homeless and lost.

What_ did _was Skyhold.

The morning after the Herald's return, she and Solas led the refugees through the Frostbacks to their new home. As they walked, the soldiers and civilians in tow mumbled nervously amongst themselves, having no idea where they were going or what they were supposed to do. Rather than ask these questions, though, the group kept quiet – something that Jille was immensely thankful for. After all, she didn't have any answers for them. At that point she was following Solas blindly and, surprisingly, had made the conscious decision to do so. Even though he was probably her closest confidant among the Inquisition's forces, the woman usually would have hesitated from or refused a foolish option like complete trust, or at least would have been incredibly insecure about it – however, after the last couple of days, she was willing to do anything if it meant she could keep the surviving Inquisition safe. They may have idolized her, but their reverence meant nothing if she wasn't deserving of it. That, and she genuinely wanted to help them.

It was a long walk, but its reward was well worth it. Following the line of Solas' hand with her eyes as he pointed to an enormous fortress rising regally through the snow, Jille drew in a breath.

Now _that _was the help they needed.

Skyhold was everything they could have asked for in a base of operations – spacious, solid and secure. Even with its slightly crumbling exterior and its occasional holes or fallen walls it was more defensible than Haven had ever been, complete with stiff stone battlements, retractable drawbridges, dozens of guard towers and an impeccably isolated location beset by mountainous terrain. It was an island. Friend or foe, anyone that might approach the Inquisition could be seen from miles away, just like any other speck of color against the stark white landscape around them. Let Corypheus _try _to sneak up on them – he would not succeed.

It didn't take anyone long to settle in. As soon as the people's eyes hit the fort their energy was renewed and they stormed into the castle with as much excitement as if they'd never been down at all. Seeing their joyous chaos, Cassandra was almost tempted to let them revel in their celebration – almost. Still, it was her job to make sure things got done. She organized their forces as quick as a wit. However, some people swore they could see her smile while she did… a story Varric quickly put to rest as too far-fetched to possibly be true.

Even more unbelievable than this, though, was the new consensus among the Inner Circle – they needed an official Inquisitor. And there was only one person they thought fit for the job.

Jille sat in her room staring into her lap. Across her legs lay a sword, and on the sword, in the middle of the cross guard, sat the crest of the Inquisition. The object wasn't hers - or at least, it hadn't been until about thirty minutes ago when Cassandra placed it in her hands and bid her raise it above her head to accept her leadership position. The moment had stunned Jille so much that most of what she could remember of it was how heavy the sword had been. Of course, it wasn't like it had gotten any lighter – her legs were getting numb from letting it just sit there so long. They and her arms were too thin to support the weapon's weight.

She was too weak, too frail. She just wasn't built to carry the sword… and certainly not the title that came with it.

Yet somehow, here it was, sitting in her lap, and here _she_ was, sitting alone in the biggest, most magnificent bedroom in Skyhold, still disbelieving they were all hers.

A knock on the door woke the woman from her stupor and she shot up, forgetting the sword and letting it clatter to the ground.

"Ah – C..come in!" She shouted and bent to pick up the sword.

Walking up the stairs and into the room, her guests – Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen – watched with amusement as their Inquisitor fumbled with the heavy blade and hurried to place it behind her desk. When she saw them she immediately stiffened up, her hands shooting straight at her sides and her face going blank. Leliana laughed, reminded of the similar reaction the girl had had the first time she was introduced to the group, but Josephine gave a sympathetic smile. She knew exactly how the woman was feeling. The ambassador had seen it a million times before, after all, mostly in young nobles who'd just inherited their titles; she knew that Jille reverting to her somewhat skittish former ways was a perfectly normal reaction to her intimidating new station and greeted her anxiety with tolerance and patience.

Cassandra, as indelicate as usual, took no notice of the odd behavior and simply waited to speak, and Cullen also stayed silent. However, his silence was less because of any social incompetence than it was because of how uncomfortable_ he_ was feeling... His eyes darted from the woman in front of him to the people around him to the ceiling or walls and back again, floating about without a point to hold on to. Now that she was Inquisitor, the commander was finding it awfully hard to look at her in the same way he usually did... Not that he didn't want her to be Inquisitor. No, they'd all agreed that she was the only person for the job, and Cullen himself had rallied the people to her cause. It was just… She was his superior now. Her. Jille.

For one day, it was a lot to wrap his head around.

Still stiff, the woman had to wait a moment before she could think of anything to say. "Oh. Cassandra, Leliana, everyone. Hello." She responded dumbly, reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of her head. She glanced to the ground. "This fortress is huge. I'm still having trouble believing a room this big is only meant for me." This was true. Even though she was technically a noble, she had few memories of living in the grand estate her family owned in Ostwick – she was a Circle girl, more used to small apartments and dormitories than space and privacy all wrapped in one.

"I know what you mean," Leliana chirped back happily. "As a child I was often dumbfounded by the extravagance of some noble ladies' sitting rooms. Such excess can take getting used to."

"Especially after how things were at Haven." Cassandra added. "This place is perfect for us. It's a miracle it was here when we needed it."

The spymaster gave a sly smirk. "I'd say it was a miracle that Solas had the knowledge of its location – something that I am _still _wondering about. I suppose there is much we do not yet know about our elven friend."

Josephine stepped between the two and spoke with a gentle smile. "It is to my understanding that he likes it that way, Leliana. Now, to the task at hand, yes?" She said, gesturing to the Herald with the pen she held in her dominant hand.

"Of course." Cassandra nodded. Catching Jille's eye, she stared the girl down and began her speech.

"As part of our circle for the last few months, you've seen how we four work together… or rather, how we do not. We've been stumbling through the important task of leading the Inquisition for far too long, and failing miserably at it. Now, that task lies with you. I believe I've mentioned this before, but only after we decided on you for the position of Inquisitor did we realize how similar its duties were to the ones you already perform. You've been leading us for a while now; we're just making it official." She said plainly and looked to the desk where Jille had stashed her sword.

"Being 'the Herald' might have made you a symbol of the Inquisition, but being 'the Inquisitor' makes you its face. More than a figurehead, you are a ruler now. We'll still be here as members of the war council, but to guide you, not decide things for you like we've been trying to do before."

The redhead simpered weakly and furrowed her brow. "I never thought you were forcing any decisions on me, Cassandra."

The woman held up her hand. "I appreciate your courtesy, but no. I was too brash, too eager to keep to my own way. I know that I've tried to push you into things that you were not comfortable with. I think we all have, at one point or another." She said soberly, looking back to her companions. Hearing this, Leliana nodded, recalling the times she'd tried to persuade Jille into taking less moral paths of action, and Josephine agreed, thinking of the roundabout politics she'd always tried to impress upon the simple girl. Even Cullen had to admit he'd gone out of line bossing her around before – he couldn't help but look away awkwardly as he remembered how angry he'd been with her for allying with the mages over the Templars.

Cassandra continued. "But now we have no room to question your choices. The path of the Inquisition lies solely with you."

Shocked, Jille blinked twice. Silence filled the space around them. Somehow, some part of her still believed it was all an elaborate hoax, another ill-humored joke at her expense that they were all in on. But they were really serious, huh? Analyzing golden eyes rolled over each member in the group, seeing nothing but determination on all of their faces, and she gulped. Then, the woman put on a shaky smile.

"Well…. I'll try not to disappoint."

"We are sure that you won't, Inquisitor." Josephine countered with a grin. She looked down to her message board and quickly began to write. "We're ready to discuss our next course of action whenever you are and will be waiting for you to call us to the war room. Until then, take all the time you need to get acclimated to your surroundings." The woman glanced back up again. "Oh, and when you have a moment, do try to take a walk around the courtyard. The people are eager to see their new leader."

With that, the woman gave a small, cordial curtsy, turned and left the room. The rest of the party soon followed, leaving Jille in a stupor. However, as a thought passed through her head, she had just enough sense to snap out of it in time to catch Cullen by the wrist as he was heading out the door.

The man whirled around in surprise, and when he did, came face to face with the sight of his Inquisitor staring up at him. The look in her eyes said she wanted something, but for as bewildered as the sudden contact was making him he had no idea what that something might be. It took him a moment to think of what to say.

"Ah… Inquisitor?"

Taking a glance down at his wrist, Jille realized for the first time what she was doing. "Oh. Um, sorry." She muttered, letting go of his hand and letting her own fall back to her side. She continued to look up at him wordlessly, though, and after a moment continued to speak. "I was just wondering… Do you have any time right now?"

The commander raised one brow. "Is there something you need?"

Once they'd gotten used to each other, Cullen and Jille had had no trouble becoming close and filling any of what would've been awkward gaps in conversation with their words – however, ever since she'd come back from Haven, Jille couldn't help but notice that things were getting tense between them again. She had no clue why, of course. She only knew that it made her nervous - it made her think that maybe he was catching on to the feelings she'd been hiding. Still, though, she wanted to talk with him, without all this Inquisition and emotional nonsense in the way; she needed him as a friend, if nothing else.

"Well… Let's… walk the battlements. See the state things are in."

Cullen remained confused as the woman walked past him and in the direction of the outer walls, but slowly followed behind anyway. "Ji… Inquisitor, if you want to make sure they're secure I can have a soldier inspect them. You should probably be getting some rest."

The mage looked back to him with a small smirk. "Cullen. Please humor me."

Except for his hesitancy to be alone with her he could see no reason not to. So the man continued to follow her through the halls until they reached the battlements, where she suddenly broke into large strides and pushed ahead.

Jille threw her gaze to the sky and stared into its big blue breadth with a sigh. Her legs were stretching their fullest as she stepped forward, forcing Cullen to jog a bit to keep up and giving him a funny, perplexed expression as he watched her go. She knew that she must seem pretty odd, but for once she didn't care. There was so much stress in her mind and her body that she needed to shake away and this felt like the best way to do it. Then, when her legs were feeling a bit less wound up, she stopped and reached her arms out in front of her, pulling the ache from her bones, and then put her hands against her hips while still looking up into the blue. Only a handful of clouds dotted its expanse, casting occasional shadows on the white below.

"For a mountain, you think it'd have more clouds, hmm?" She said wistfully and looked back.

Cullen only blinked. From what he knew of her, Jille was not an impulsive girl, and by no means one as strange as she was acting right now. He couldn't think of anything to do but nod in response and look out onto the sky himself.

Jille turned back around. "And you'd think it would be colder, too. I mean, we're surrounded by snow. But look – this place even has a garden. Things actually _grow _here." She said and pointed to the inside of the fortress where the remains of garden plots could be seen along thriving overgrowths of green. "It's like a little oasis."

The commander nodded again. Then, faking an inspection of the bricks around them, he cleared his throat and spoke up. "The walls here seem sturdy enough."'

The Herald sighed. She walked to the side of the wall and sat on it, resting her arms in her lap and staring straight to the man beside her. "Cullen…. I don't _actually _want to inspect the battlements, you know."

He paused. "Ah."

"Yea."

"Oh." He cleared his throat again. "Then why…" The man began, letting the word trail off into the wind.

Jille took a deep breath and ran one hand through her hair. "I needed to clear my head. To… get away from everything for a second. And, I wanted to talk to you…" She said in a lower tone, glancing at him from her peripheral.

"Oh. Well, that's… you could've just asked. To talk, that is." He stumbled out. Feeling awkward, he leaned against the wall next to her and tried to stare ahead into the courtyard rather than at the girl directly.

She furrowed her brow. "But could I have? We haven't talked since Haven, not really. And now, with all of this… _Inquisitor _nonsense…. I was afraid you'd… I don't know…" She turned away, picking at her hair again. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to speak with me if I just _asked_."

Cullen was confused again, but this time felt a small smile crawling across his face. "Why wouldn't I want to speak with you?"

Jille blushed. "I don't know! Because… Because now I'm your superior! You have to take orders from… Oh Maker, I have to _give orders._" Her eyes widened and she buried her head in her hands. As she spoke, her voice bounced up and down, becoming more and more distressed as she went on. "I have to order people around now! I actually have to _command _the Inquisition. I have to make decisions for _everyone._ I only just came to terms with the whole 'religious icon' thing – how do I deal with being _Inquisitor? _I'm not Inquisitor material! I can't even figure out how to start a conversation with you!" She said hopelessly and gestured to the man at her side.

Cullen's smile became sheepish as he opened his mouth to speak. However, when he thought of what it was he'd say, he stopped. He was going to say that her concerns were silly – that something like position would never alienate her from him – but then he realized that it _did _alienate her from him, and that ever since she'd taken her title he'd been worrying about the exact same rift between them, and that it was STILL worrying him and was one of the main reasons he'd been feeling so uncomfortable up until now. _Maker's breath… While I've been sitting around moping about status, it's that moping that's been driving her away. _He grinned and reached out to pat the woman on the shoulder.

While he still thought he should treat her as a superior and that he shouldn't let his emotions get in the way of his duties, it didn't mean he couldn't support her as his friend, too.

"Jille. If we hadn't thought you were right for the position, we wouldn't have given it to you."

"But I'm _not _right for the position!"

"And why not?"

"I…. Well, I'm shy. I'm not good with words. I can't give speeches. I'm not charismatic like Josephine or bold like Cassandra, or brave, like you. How am I supposed to govern a force this huge when I'm such a… a coward?"

Cullen leaned farther back against the wall and put on a comforting smile as Jille looked up for the first time.

"You know, you really were shy in the past. But if you haven't noticed, you're a lot less timid than you used to be. You've grown." He chuckled. "I mean, Maker's breath, you've actually managed to make friends with _Sera._ Someone with debilitating shyness couldn't do that."

Jille's frown twisted into a smirk and she laughed. "Okay, maybe I've gotten a little better. But that was only because of everybody's help."

The other man grinned and shook his head. "No. That was you. I know it was." He continued, occasionally waving his hands through the air to punctuate his points. "And what about all those agents you keep bringing in from your journeys?" He said happily. "And the stories of people you've helped and allies you've made? If you were a coward, could you have done all that? Could you have swayed so many people?" He stopped for a moment to catch her eye. "Could you have sacrificed yourself, like you did at Haven?"

Jille froze. "That… That was different. That wasn't bravery."

"How?"

The girl curled in on herself, hugging her arms to her chest. "It didn't take any courage to do what I did."

Cullen's grin became crooked, his expression turning baffled. "Really? Are you joking? That was the bravest and _stupidest…_"

"No, it wasn't. It was just… It was the only way. It was the only thing that could've been done."

She tried to look away, but the general stubbornly kept her stare. "No, it wasn't."

She gave him a tiny smile. "What else were we supposed to do?"

Cullen's thoughts and whys from after Haven flooded back to him and fell out of his mouth in droves. "We could've distracted the army some other way. We could have ignored the army altogether and just focused on getting out. Hell, we could've even just… sent someone else! But you went, and…"

"No! We couldn't have sent anyone else, and you know that any other way would have failed."

He refused to give in and latched on to the fault he found in her words. "Why couldn't anyone else have gone? Why did it _have_ to be you?"

"Because… Because everyone else, they have purposes and, and things… talents to give to the Inquisition. And they have families and people that love them. You couldn't make them throw those things away."

Nothing she was saying was making any sense. It confused the man so much that his next words came out sounding almost angry. "And _you _don't have a purpose? You don't have any talents to give to the Inquisition or people that love you?"

Jille shrugged.

He couldn't believe it. "You know that's not true."

She stayed silent.

Cullen had to pause, completely shocked. Why didn't she think that she was… _worth _anything? She'd made so many friends among the Inquisition – wouldn't that alone tell her how much she meant to them? He'd seen what kind of a person she was and what she could do. The complete lack of ego she had made no sense. Everyone valued themselves at least a little… right?

His next words came out still and strong. "Jille Trevelyan. If you don't think you have anyone that would miss you if you were gone… that's not just the dumbest thing I've ever heard, but the most selfish as well."

Jille looked back to him in surprise as the man stood up. "Thinking it's fine to disregard yourself and your life because you don't think anyone cares about you is an insult to the people that do; your friends. And there are a lot of them, Jille." He said and crossed his arms.

"I'll say it again – you were made Inquisitor because you were the only one right for the job. You don't think you have a purpose? There. That's your purpose now." Cullen met her eyes for a moment and, though tempted to look away due to the emotions powering his words, held her there. "And if you think I'm ever letting you abandon that purpose or the people that love you again by recklessly putting yourself in danger, then you are sorely mistaken."

With that, the general walked away. Jille watched him go, completely baffled, until he met a corner and turned out of sight. She stayed frozen for almost a full minute after he left, thinking through his words. Then, she smiled. A cold wind hit the battlements, but she could barely tell, her cheeks going rosy. The girl laughed and hugged herself to keep the warmth inside. _Oh, stop smiling_, she thought. _It's a dumb thing to be happy about. And you even made him mad – shouldn't you be upset? Even though…. _

_He cares about me. He does, doesn't he? _

She laughed again and felt the blush on her face with her hands. _Even though I know he just means he's my friend, with how things have been since Haven I wasn't even sure of THAT anymore. But he wasn't being distant because he didn't like me… he was worried about me! _

Then she stopped again, that last thought echoing in her head and pulling her to a halt. _Oh. He was worried._

_I made him worried._

Jille wiped the smile off of her face and put her arms back to her sides, remembering his words again. _"Disregarding myself" is "an insult to the people that care about me." I see… Oh. I shouldn't have worried him, should I? _

Jille looked back to where he'd stood on the wall beside her and put one hand to the stone. It seems that as simple as she could be, she'd actually understood his words for once. After all, if she had someone like Cullen worrying about her and caring for her, maybe there really was something about her that people would want. And if that was so, it was something she'd have to take care of. _Wouldn't want to disappoint them, _she thought with a smirk.

The cold was setting in, now, and, satisfied with the talk she'd had and the conclusions she'd reached, the mage turned to go inside. As she did, she reminded herself of Josephine's request that she walk through the courtyard and firmly resolved to do so. It would be a part of her position; a position that, now that she thought about it, couldn't be that bad, even if she wasn't the most bold or charismatic leader. Being Inquisitor, her job was basically just to help people, and that was already something she liked to do. The "ruling" part might be tough to grasp, but she only had to rule in a way that was familiar to her – in a way that would help. She could do that… Yes, it was something she could do. A talent. A purpose.

Just before she closed the door between herself and the battlements, Jille looked back again to where they'd stood and felt a bit of her blush return. Feeling timid and hiding behind the door, the girl shed a secret smile and whispered to the place he'd once been.

"Thank you. For the help, and for not… ignoring me. Even though I made you mad, I mean… Thank you. And also…

I love you."

The door clicked shut.


	5. Chapter 5

_**[Hey guys! FightForLife here :3**_

_**I just wanted to say thank you for all the positive reviews and feedback, and to say sorry for not replying to any comments yet – I don't write on that often and only just remembered how to use the Reply function, eh heh. I'll get to responding to y'all right away : D**_

_**Our first few chapters were pretty melodramatic and heavy, huh? Here's a short little fun one for a break from all that. Hope you enjoy! ^ _ ^]**_

A new fortress, a new enemy, and a new Inquisitor; all these things in place made it clear to the Inquisition that they were venturing into uncharted territory. Of course, most of the Inquisition's members meant this in the figurative sense, but there were indeed some that meant it in the literal – the Inquisitor's party members. Now that they were gathering steam and preparing for a proper fight against a proper enemy, they needed to collect resources and spread the influence of the Inquisition to every inch within their reach. Soon, Jille and her team were spanning the vast lands of Orlais and Fereldan and venturing into every nook and cranny they held, wiping out Corypheus' soldiers and gaining new allies wherever possible… even if there were some nooks and crannies they'd rather not venture to.

One of these places was the Western Approach. You couldn't find a land less hospitable than its rolling sands and sulfurous swamps if you were masochistic enough to _try,_ and yet, on a morning when the sun was particularly hot and the winds particularly harsh, if you walked past Griffon Keep and into Quillback territory and followed the sounds of fighting you'd find the Inquisition's members doing what they did best; battling Venatori.

Jille swung her staff in the air with a shout, casting a magical barrier just in time for it to take the brunt of a spellcaster's curse. However, though she'd spared herself his blow's initial damage, fire quickly engulfed her force field as the man continued to mumble his chant. Watching the barrier flicker and fade and knowing it was about to go out Jille looked to her allies for help, but they were all in fights of their own. Swallowing hard, she readied her staff and prepared to jump through the flames... until Dorian sprinted forth from nowhere with a blizzard at his side. The ice doused any fire that surrounded the girl and then swallowed the Venatori man whole, his chant broken by his own surprised screech. The winter cloud then moved throughout the battlefield, tumbling and tossing their enemies like children's playthings. Jille stopped for a moment to take it all in, then looked to Dorian and laughed. The mage looked back at her with a satisfied smirk and then cut the blizzard short and went in on his frozen enemies to finish the job.

Free from immediate danger, Jille glanced around the battlefield to see the state of her companions. Dorian was, obviously, handling himself just fine, and she could see Varric firing arrows from atop a sandy hill not too far away. However, when she looked to Cassandra, she gasped. The warrior was overcome by Venatori – every one of the men that hadn't turned been turned into an icicle by Dorian was moving to attack their Seeker. Jille raised her staff and was ready to fry each one to a crisp, but cursed and put it back down when she realized that it would be too risky; she might hit Cassandra as well. Her eyes widened as she saw a soldier approach from behind.

"Cassandra, behind you!" She shouted.

The woman quickly slew the Venatori before her and whirled around, but her new opponent had already drawn his sword. However, just as he was about to lower it into her head… _kathunk! _An arrow wedged itself into his skull. His body slowly slumped to the ground... And when it did, Cassandra got a perfect view of Varric reloading Bianca from across the sand. She smirked stiffly, then turned back around to dispatch her other opponents.

Another minute passed and the battle was finished. The team put their hands on their hips and took a collective breath of relief as they looked around at all their victims. Then, the Inquisitor smiled to her companions. She wasn't particularly fond of all the killing she had to do in the Inquisition, but when she _did_ have to kill someone… well, she was glad she had the people she did at her side. They were forces of nature –_Literally_, she thought as she watched Dorian summon a smaller blizzard from the tip of his staff.

"Do any of them have the journals?" The mage said absently, staring into his snowy globe.

"Ah." Jille exclaimed – she'd almost forgotten. The woman bent down and started to search some of the bodies, Cassandra doing the same as Varric walked from his hill to meet them. The reason they'd attacked the Venatori there was because they were searching for a series of journals – specifically, ones that might connect the Venatori presence they were encountering in the Western Approach with the one they'd already seen in the Hissing Wastes. _There_ they had found that the Venatori were trying to collect an old Paragon's artifact and that that was the reason they'd had the area so densely occupied, so while they worked to tear down the group's influence in the Western Approach they were also trying to find evidence of the same - or at least, some sort of evidence to indicate what the cultists were doing there. Jille had already spoken to Stroud, the Grey Warden that the Champion of Kirkwall had mentioned, and knew that soon she'd be meeting Hawke and the man at a Grey Warden fortress in that very Approach. Until they met, though, she wanted to eliminate as many outside threats as possible. After all, they might have to make a quick getaway.

"Got them," Cassandra said and stood back up, waving a thin, leather-bound journal in the air. Jille smiled and brushed the dust from her legs as she straightened herself as well. When she looked up the Seeker was already flipping through the pages, scanning them intently with narrowed brown eyes.

"Well? Find anything?" Dorian asked as he let his blizzard die.

The woman sighed and tossed the book to him – he didn't catch it, but instead held it in the air with a quickly summoned spell and then brought it into his hands.

"Nothing – or at least, nothing to connect these ones with the ones in the Wastes. Whatever they may be here for, it's not any sort of artifact. My guess would be that they're actually trying to forge a standing settlement."

The Tevinter raised one brow curiously as he flicked through the book. "Here? Who in their right mind would want any sort of permanent fortress _here_? Besides, well, us. And the Grey Wardens." Dorian added with an awkward cough before regaining his humor. "I mean seriously, a summer home is one thing, but to _live _in _this…._" He looked around at the wasteland they were standing in. Then, he smirked. "I thought real estate was all about 'location, location, location.'"

"It might just be a coincidence, Seeker – the Wastes are nearby. They could just be passing through." Varric suggested. He then gestured to the settlement around them. "After all, this camp's supplies don't look like they'd last more than a couple of days."

Cassandra thought about his words for a moment and then started to reorganize herself, sheathing her sword and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Both are possible. However, neither theory will be confirmed by wasting any more time here – I suggest we move on."

The dwarf smirked. "If you know anywhere else to go, please, lead the way."

Ignoring his sarcasm, Cassandra did just that, turning on her heels and starting off in the opposite direction. Soon, the rest of the group followed, Varric taking up pace behind her and the two mages falling to the rear. Jille smoothed her hair back with one hand, trying to fix what damage had been done by the chaos of the battle, and then latched her staff to her back with a small sigh. It seemed to her that neither Cassandra nor Varric could exchange a word with each other without some snarky comment or threat leaking in, and while the biting back-and-forth did make their travels a bit more entertaining she still wished they would get along. She'd gotten to know both of them over the past few months and knew they were both incredible people – despite all his self-deprecating stories and clever lies, Jille knew that Varric had a heart of gold, and Cassandra, while brash, was one of the bravest and smartest people she'd ever met. The two were actually sort of similar, if she thought about it; both were selfless and strong but neither were willing to admit it. _If they could just get past the little differences they do have, I'm sure they'd get along, _the Inquisitor thought tiredly. Then suddenly, she felt a tapping on her shoulder.

She turned her head to see Dorian with a mischievous look on his face. "Have you noticed it too?" The Tevinter asked curiously. Jille's mouth turned up into a crooked smirk.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You _know _what I mean… The thing. Between our Seeker and resident dwarf."

"What thing?"

"Yes, what thing?" Varric said with a threatening tone as he looked over his shoulder.

Dorian straightened up, caught red handed, but any sign of embarrassment or guilt on his face was gone in an instant. "Well,I was _trying _to be delicate, but I guess I'll just come out and say it. Varric. Are you and Cassandra…"

"What? Extremely hostile? Prone to violent argument? Natural enemies?" The dwarf guessed with a smile.

"Together?"

His face dropped. "WHAT?!"

Jille's eyes turned the size of dinner plates as Varric stared at Dorian and she saw the woman ahead of them freeze in her tracks. Feeling laughter bubble in her chest, the girl quickly clamped her hand over her mouth and grinned from behind her fingers.

"Are you two an _item_?" The man reiterated.

"What're you - No! Maker, no!" Varric shouted, waving his arms frantically in front of him to disregard the notion. Jille was almost near tears with how hard she was trying not to laugh.

"Well, why not?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"The_ obvious_ fact that you're crazy about one another?"

"I'm right _here_, you know!" Cassandra yelled back to them, turning around. She seemed furious, naturally, but at the same time Jille swore she could see a little bit of blush edging her cheeks.

"See Varric? She's _right there_!" Dorian said and gestured to the woman. Varric's eyes narrowed, his jaw hanging slack for a moment, and for what might have been the first time in his life the dwarf was completely speechless. Then, he sighed, and reaching up with one hand started massaging his right temple to ease is newfound headache. "Just because two people can't stand each other doesn't mean they're about to _kiss_, Sparkler." He grumbled angrily and continued walking.

The other man chuckled. "Not according to your books," he sang teasingly.

Varric did a quick one-eighty and was facing Dorian again, pointing a threatening finger at his face. "Hey! Don't mistake me for the hack who wrote 'Hard in Hightown 2'. _I _can _spell._"

Then he clammed up, swerving back into his position and making it clear from the stiffness of his back to his hunched shoulders that he refused to pursue the conversation further. At the sight of him Dorian giggled once more and then began to whistle happily, and Jille's grin was so wide she was afraid it might fall off her face. When her friend saw it he leaned back and whispered in her ear…

"Stubborn old fools. They _know _I'm right."

She exploded into laughter.

Varric and Cassandra turned around at the same time, yelling together.

"HEY!"


	6. Chapter 6

The war room's door closed with a bang as Cullen stormed into the room. However, he wasn't "storming" because he was angry – there was literally a storm at his heels, snow fluttering into the room alongside him and pushing through the crack in the door. Jille and the rest of the war council smiled wearily and turned to the windows, watching the same storm their general had welcomed in crash against the landscape outside. The man gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, brushing out snow and ice and reshaping what had been tossed about by wind.

"We really should fix that hole in the wall." He grumbled.

"I'll find some laborers for the job." Josephine assured him, making a note on her message board and burying the errand among the millions of others that lie in her pages.

"Well find them fast – this is getting ridiculous." To accentuate his point, Cullen turned around, revealing that the back of his cape had been absolutely plastered in frost.

Jille chuckled. It was winter in Fereldan and that meant snow, and lots of it. As impenetrable as Skyhold's walls were they couldn't defend against the weather, and as such, the Inquisition was currently experiencing a number of "snow days" – most all of the organization's activities were restricted to the indoors and even the garden was locked down until further notice.

Cassandra crossed her arms. "Even if we do fix the hole, we're still surrounded by this… winter _madness_. It's impeding our work. We can't get anything done when we can barely see an inch in front of our faces!" She said with a frown and glared out the window.

"Plus it's distracting the men – I swear, first sight of snow and they turn into children. I had to break up a snowball fight just walking over here." The commander added.

The Inquisitor's ears perked up. "A snowball fight?" She asked.

"Yes. Some of the younger recruits got it in their heads that as long as training was suspended they might as well enjoy it. By the time I got there, even our veterans had joined in."

"You should've just let them have their fun, Commander." Josephine said with a giggle. "It's good for morale if they get to play as much as they work."

He smirked. "I _might _have, if they weren't _supposed _to be repairing windows at the time. Now – onto the task at hand, yes?"

Cassandra turned back to the table. "Yes. Before we can do anything to address the issue at Adamant, we needto solve the problem with the varghests in our water supply. If our soldiers at Griffon Wing aren't ready to stand in as reinforcements, we have no chance of taking the fort."

Jille's mind was wandering, trying to picture winter play between the soldiers, but she pushed the thoughts aside. After all, there was work to be done.

When the meeting was over, the four having planned an excursion to the Western Approach set to leave the day after next, Jille decided to take a walk around the grounds. By then the blizzard had mostly passed, but it left behind a layer of fresh powder on the ground that shimmered in the sun as it crawled out from behind the clouds. The woman knew the storm would be back – it never stayed away for long this time of year – but while it was gone she was eager to see what it'd done.

She walked along a thin path the Inquisition's soldiers had carved through the snow. The poor men were working overtime cleaning up after nature's mess, but they didn't complain much. After all, as long as there was snow weighing down roofs and bogging up passages, there was an excuse not to suffer through Cullen's brutal training methods. Jille sighed. She knew that Cullen was a brilliant commander, but the damage they'd suffered at Haven hit him hard. He'd lost too many men and he was determined not to lose any more – even if it meant working them into the ground to ensure they were ready for the next attack.

_I wish he would give himself a break… and give our soldiers one, too. _The woman thought and hugged her arms tight to her sides. Her breath made a frosty mist in front of her that fluttered into the air, disappearing and reappearing as steady as her heartbeat. She huddled up against the building behind her and looked out onto courtyard. Icicles decorated the tavern's gutters like crystals on a chandelier, Jille grinning as they glittered when water dripped down their sides and fell to the ground. Then suddenly, she heard a crash like shattering glass and whirled her head to the side – just in time to come face to face with a snowball.

"GOT-chya!" She heard Sera cheer. From somewhere above, the girl gave a chortle, a piggish snort of a laugh. "Herald's all wet!"

The ice stung Jille's face and pricked at her skin, but she was more confused than hurt and quickly looked to the tavern's window. The "shattering glass" she'd heard was the icicles in front of Sera's room getting smashed to bits as she threw her window open to pin the other girl with the snowball, and now, the elf hung one leg off the side of the ledge and laughed to herself. Jille furrowed her brow and grew a crooked grin.

"Sera! Did you have already have that in your room?"

"Yup! Never know when a rube's gonna walk within throwing distance." She explained and jumped out onto the roof. Jille gasped.

"Be caref—"

Before she even finished shouting, Sera slid through the roof's snow and grabbed the gutter just before she fell, swinging to the ground with a loud "Whoop!" Her landing was less than graceful, white chunks of snow scattering up around her like a splash in a pond when she hit the earth, but she popped up quick as you please with her same old twisted grin on her face. And, Jille noted, with another snowball in her hands.

"Whaddya say, Quiz? Up for a little snow battle?"

The woman curled in on herself, hunching up her shoulders and looking embarrassed. "I really shouldn't."

"Why not?" Sera asked plainly, tossing her snowball from her left hand to her right and then back again.

Jille watched it with a longing look in her eyes, but stayed where she was. "You know why. I'm the Inquisitor. I shouldn't be seen out playing in the snow, like a…."

"Like a _what?_" She asked, catching the snowball midair and raising one eyebrow in Jille's direction.

The other woman coughed awkwardly.

Sera sneered. "Fine. Do what you want, Snobby Bigshot McStuffyPants. Wouldn't want to act like a _whatever_ it is." She spat and turned around.

Jille frowned. "Wait, Sera!" She called.

No answer. In fact, the other girl ignored her and began to hum, loud, off key and probably purposely annoying.

_Oh, screw it._

Sera opened the door with a flourish, swinging it to her side, when BAM! A circle of snow pounded against the wood. Her blonde bob smacked against her face as she turned back around to see Jille gathering up snow in her hands. The elf gave a toothy grin and jumped to attention.

"You missed, ya little priss!"

"You moved!" The woman shouted back with a laugh.

"If that's how your aim is, don't go swingin' that staff of yours 'round ME anytime soon. Take THIS!"

A surprise snowball to her ankle knocked Jille off her feet and into the snow with a happy shriek. She retorted by taking hold of her staff and punching it at the air near Sera's head, summoning a quick flurry of white to fall in her face.

The rogue shook it out of her hair like a Mabari after a bath. "Oy! What'd I just say?"

The two laughed and continued their game. Soon, Cole heard the noise and was drawn out from the tavern's attic. Walking along the side of the field unnoticed, he made himself known on the barracks wall just as Jille was getting ready to throw another ball.

"What are you doing?" He asked innocently.

Surprised by his sudden appearance, Jille's arm twisted at the last moment and sent the ball hurtling towards Cole, making a thump as it landed on one side of his hat. Snow curled down the edges until it bordered the brim, and he reached one hand up to touch it, bringing it down and feeling it melt between his fingers.

"You're fighting? With snow?"

Jille smirked. "We're not _really_ fighting, Cole, we're playing!" From across the field, Sera readied another attack.

"Then why are you throwing things at each other?"

"Because _this_!" Sera shouted and tossed one at his chest. It hit him soundly and made him fall from the wall and into the snow with a gasp, and when he hit it he sank like a stone, powder covering him from head to toe. Then, he stood. His eyes widened as he looked down at himself.

"I see. Snow is soft, sticks to clothes and makes you smile, it's… Silly. You're fighting for fun?"

Sera rolled her eyes. "You're overthinkin' it. Try throwing a ball, if you're so curious!" She jumped up onto the wall, kicking snow over his head. Moving slowly, still a little hesitant, Cole reached down and made a sphere in his hands. Jille urged him on with a comforting smile.

The throw was pitiful. It plopped to the ground a few feet away from where he stood.

"Not like that – like _this!_" A new voice boomed into the air. The three turned in surprise to find the Iron Bull standing at the tavern door with a grin… _and_ with a huge boulder of snow in his arms.

Sera exploded into shrieks and giggles as she bounced from the wall and back into the courtyard, fleeing the enormous shot as it hurtled towards her and crashed against the battlements. "That's a big ball, Bull – you compensatin' for something?" The girl teased as she gathered more snow in her arms. Cole's eyes widened again as he disappeared, reappearing at Jille's side just as she reached to the ground for her own ammunition.

"I think we both know I don't have to compensate for _anything_, Tiny. YOU on the other hand…"

His banter was cut off by a snowball to the shoulder, delivered by the Inquisitor. "Stop talking and start throwing!" She cheered.

Teams were formed almost instantly – Bull versus everyone else – and unspoken battle plans passed through glances between Sera to the Inquisitor to a very overwhelmed Cole and back again. They surrounded the Qunari from all sides, Sera even climbing up the side of the tavern wall for a sky assault, and started pummeling him with snowballs, refusing to let up as he retorted with battle cries and powerful shots of his own. Even Cole got a few throws in, soon becoming comfortable with the game. However, just as relentless as their onslaught of snow was the teasing of Sera and the laughter of all four, echoing throughout Skyhold. Soon, Cassandra ran out onto the battlefield.

"WHAT is going ON here?!" She demanded, Sera and Bull halting mid-throw.

The Inquisitor clammed up. "Ummmm…"

WHACK! Cassandra cringed as a snowball hit her back. The four throwers froze, Sera letting out an awe-struck "Ooooh". It was a good one; from the way the Seeker shivered and curved her spine you could just _tell_ she'd gotten some down her shirt. But none of them had thrown it, so who…?

Whistling floated through the air, coming from the staircase that led into the Main Hall. A murderous look in her eyes, Cassandra turned to see none other than Varric Tethras, an innocent look on his face and flecks of snow dotting his thick black gloves.

The woman gave a dark grin. Seconds later, a sphere flew through the air and caught Varric in the chest, knocking him onto his back and kicking the air straight out of him. After a second of dreadful silence, he groaned. "Maker's BREATH…"

Laughter sprang from Cassandra and fell from her lips in a giggle. The rest of the party stared on in shock. Their Seeker had… _giggled. _The woman froze as her laugh cut short, realizing what she'd done... But soon, the Bull grinned, gave a laugh of his own and tossed a snowy missile her way. Cassandra shouted as she side-stepped the shot, then, with a smirk slowly growing on her face, threw one right back. Varric struggled to his feet and watched for a moment as the Seeker broke into a smile. Then the man grinned, hurried down the steps and joined the fight himself.

Up on the battlements, Cullen and Josephine were surveying the most recent damage caused by the storm. The ambassador pointed out windows broken by wind, wood rotted by melted water and cracks in the foundation where ice had crept, and while she did Cullen assigned soldiers and laborers to do each job in his head.

"And over here, another fallen – ah. What's that down there?" The woman said, noticing the fight out of the corner of her eye.

The general turned and saw snowballs. He clicked his tongue. "Damn it all. I TOLD them to..." His words were cut short as, with another look, he realized just who it was in the battle below. The bright orange hair and laughing grin of their leader caught his eye as she and Cole held up their arms against another throw from the Bull. "Ji… Is that the Inquisitor?"

"And Sera, Varric, the Bull - even Cassandra!" Josephine added in surprise. She smiled. "They must have liked those soldiers' idea."

Cullen pursed his lips. If there was work they could be doing, they shouldn't be playing. He could understand Sera or maybe Varric participating in such behavior, but Cassandra? Jille? He opened his mouth, ready to put down the frivolous act. However, looking again, he stopped.

Jille gave a loud laugh as Cole was pinned in the face at her side, then screamed girlishly as Sera and the Bull pelted her with snowballs next. Faking a shocked expression after Sera's betrayal, she and Cole ran to Varric's side and formed a new team, working together to push back against the Bull and Sera both. Cassandra looked between both teams and, seeing as how Varric was on one side, promptly decided to ally herself with his enemies. Now that new alliances had been drawn it was like a new stage of the battle had begun, and each group fought with renewed vigor. Snow flew, taunts and cheers met midair. Cullen had never seen them having so much fun.

"Remember, Commander. A little bit of play is good for morale – not just for our soldiers, but for us as well." Josephine said with a wise little smirk.

He turned to her. "This coming from _you_? The always hectic Lady Ambassador?"

She waved off the comment. "Hectic is such a negative word. I prefer to think of myself as… dedicated." Then, remembering something, she looked to the distance. "But recently, a certain friend of ours reminded me that even Ineed a break, sometimes."

"So you intend to join them?" He said and gestured to the group below.

Josephine chuckled. "Oh no. Snowball fights aren't really within my realm of interest. _You,_ however, should consider it."

The man looked up in shock at the suggestion. "Me? Are you joking?"

She shook her head.

He paused. "But the repairs…"

"Will be done in due time. At the moment, our work is finished… And, if you'll excuse me, now seems like a good time for me to sit down with a nice, relaxing book."

She nodded in a slight goodbye, turned in the direction of her quarters and walked away.

Cullen looked back to the courtyard.

The battle was reaching its climax. With the strength of Cassandra and the Bull combined with Sera's speed, Jille's team was getting destroyed. The woman quickly summoned a wall of ice to protect them from their opponent's blows and ducked behind it.

"Hey! That's cheating!" Cassandra called.

The spirit, dwarf and mage formed a huddle. "What do we do now?" Cole asked, voice strained with both fear and excitement.

Varric cracked his knuckles and peered over the wall. "If you think I'm letting that harpy have the _satisfaction.._."

"She won't! We just have to come up with a plan." Jille said hurriedly, biting her lip in thought.

"Need a little help?" A voice said in her ear.

Jille's eyes widened as she turned around. There, the usually stern commander gave her a boyish smile.

"Cullen? What're you…"

"We've got Curly on our side? Oh, this is gonna be great!" The dwarf said with a silent cheer.

Cullen and the Inquisitor exchanged a look; on the Inquisitor's end, it was one of surprise, and from Cullen it was an embarrassed but eager "hello". Jille grinned, and the sight of it made Cullen smile right along with her. Then they looked to the rest of the team and started their plan.

"All right, here's what we do…"

On the other side of the field, Sera, Cassandra and the Bull waited in anticipation, whispering to themselves.

"Ready? All right… NOW!" The general screamed.

With a wave of Jille's staff the wall of ice melted away, Varric and Cullen advancing past the barrier and pushing at the opposing team with dozens of pre-prepared projectiles.

Cassandra stopped, confused. "Cullen? When did you – AH!" Her words scattered to the wind as three snowballs hit her, two to her chest and one to her head, and she had to raise her shield to defend herself. The Iron Bull prepared to strike back with a snowball as big as a bronto, but before he could throw it was accosted by Cole from behind. The nimble spirit had snuck around the side of the field and jumped onto the Qunari's back, and now, took off his hat and put it in front of the man's one good eye.

"Hey!" Bull swung at the air around his horns wildly, constantly missing his target. Cole was too fast, and soon jumped from his shoulders and hung onto the roof, leaving his hat behind and the other man blind. The Bull pulled back his arm with snowball in hand, and…

"Hey hey HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE -!" BAM! Smacked Sera right in the gob with his boulder and plunged her into the snow.

A few seconds after being completely submerged, Sera popped her head out from the white and looked to her companions. Cassandra, cursing under her breath behind her shield, pinned by Varric and Cullen's sustained assault; Bull, still blind and fumbling with the strap that held Cole's hat in place. Herself? Currently being stared down by a suddenly _very _threatening mage girl with a battalion of snowballs levitating over her shoulders and a mischievous smile on her face.

Sera sprang from the ground and threw up her hands in defeat. "Andraste's tits, Quizzy! I'm getting' outta here!"

"What?! Sera, you stay RIGHT there!" Cassandra shouted. But the girl was already gone, jumping from step to step up the fortress' walls until she was out of sight. "SERA!"

Cullen and Varric grinned between themselves and pushed further in their assault, hitting Cassandra's shield with so many missiles so fast that her arms gave out and soon, she was buried under their snow.

It was then that Bull finally got rid of the hat. He blinked once, then looked around.

"Shit. What'd I miss?"

The Inquisitor's team froze. Then, they all dropped their snowballs and laughed.

Cassandra dug herself out of the snow with a sneer and looked at her opponents. Cullen and Varric were grinning ear to ear, already joking about their victory, and met with Jille halfway across the battlefield to join in a cheer. Cole reappeared amongst the group (with his hat again, somehow) and got a pat on the back from Varric and a "Well done, kid", causing him to hide a small smile. The Seeker opened her mouth to say something, but soon realized there was nothing to say. She chuckled to herself and walked over to the Bull.

"Looks like we've lost this one."

The Iron Bull was feeling rather confused about how they lost, having been blind for most of the final attack, but shrugged. It'd been a Hell of a time, anyway. "Can't win 'em all."

The two nodded to each other in acknowledgment and, with that, walked back to their respective quarters.

Back with the winning team, Varric put his hands on his hips and laughed. "Now there's a story that'll be fun to tell; facing down a Seeker of Truth, a Ben-Hassrath spy and a Red Jenny with nothing but pile of snow, and _winning_!"

"I'm sure by the time _you're _through with it, there'll be a giant and a Tevinter Magister somewhere in the mix as well." Jille joked to her friend.

The man sighed contentedly. "Nope – this one's good enough by itself." Opening his arms, he addressed the entire group. "Anyone up for a celebratory drink? We just won the battle of a lifetime, after all!"

The Inquisitor put her hands up in defense. "Not me. After that, I'm more in the mood for a celebratory nap."

A timid hand rose off to the side of the group. It was Cole's. "I'll come with you."

"Great! Let's go, kid. Maybe we can see how well a spirit holds its 'spirits'." Varric said with a laugh. He led the other boy into the tavern and, after greeting the building's inhabitants with the first few words to a rousing bar song, shut the door tight.

Back on the battlefield, Jill and Cullen stood alone. The two looked to each other with a shared smile.

"Thank you for joining us." The Inquisitor said to her general.

Cullen gave a mock salute. "Commander of the Inquisition's snowy forces, reporting for duty."

The two laughed. Then, Cullen continued. "But really, it was my pleasure. It's not every day you get to pummel a Seeker into the snow without repercussion."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get repercussion – maybe not now, but one day she'll find a way to get us back. Or if not Cassandra, Sera!"

"Sera! I forgot about her. Damn - I'm finding spiders in my bed tonight for sure."

Jille giggled. "Oh come on. Her pranks are harmless."

The general smirked and rolled his eyes. "Fine, then – tiny, non-venomous spiders, but spiders nonetheless."

She laughed again and then sighed. The storm was making its way back into the hold, snow slowly beginning to fall once more – the woman looked up, then to her hands, which were blotchy red, dripping with water and near freezing from playing so long without gloves. She stuffed them into the pockets on the side of her coat and shivered lightly, but her smile remained.

Cullen saw the shiver and acted almost without thinking, whipping the heavy feathered stole from his shoulders and placing it on hers instead. "Here."

Jille looked up at him. "Oh no, I'm fine. You shouldn't…"

"No, I insist. You've been out here longer than I have, anyway." The smile on his face was gentle. Or at least, it was until he realized what he was doing and wiped his expression clean, straightening up sternly and forcing himself to look away. "It wouldn't due to leave the Inquisitor freezing in the cold."

Jille paused. "Ah. I see."

Awkward silence settled in between the two – it seemed to be their frequent conversation partner lately. Then, Cullen spoke up.

"It's snowing again."

She nodded. "Yes."

More silence.

"Ahem… May I walk you to your quarters, then?"

"I think I'll be alright. Yours are farther away. I'm, um… just inside the Main Hall."

"Ah. Right."

The commander stared into the ground and desperately struggled for something to say, dreading the pause in conversation he knew was sure to freeze them in place any moment, but luckily the Inquisitor jumped in instead.

"We could walk up to the door, if you like."

He jolted up with a crooked smile. "Yes, that would be fine! Um. Ahem. I mean… Yes, of course."

Jille chuckled and started walking, Cullen stepping behind her at first and then quickly going up to her side. She pulled his stole tightly around her neck; it really was warm. He wore it so often she didn't think she'd ever seen him without it – glancing to her right, looking at the man, he almost seemed like a different person. It might've been the first time she'd ever even _seen_ his shoulders. Covered only slightly by his armor, they were broad and stiff, but strong. You could tell from one glance that they belonged to a military man. Usually they were covered with, well, with the feathers that were currently lying on her own. Shifting her head to face forward again, one of these feathers tickled Jille under her nose, making her sneeze.

"See. I knew you were cold." Cullen chimed in.

The woman rolled her eyes but did not object, instead smiling to herself. "Fine, you win! I was cold." She conceded.

The other man's lips curled up childishly. "It was fun, though. I haven't participated so whole heartedly in a snowball fight since I was a boy."

Jille thought to herself for a moment, then grinned as she faced the man again. "I can't imagine you as a child."

"What? You think I always looked like this?"

"Not like that… Maker, imagine that face on a toddler's body."

"What's wrong with my face?" He asked jokingly.

"Nothing, nothing! It's a very nice face."

"Sure, you say that _now…_" The man teased.

She gave him a narrowed, snarky glance, and then pointedly turned her head away. "Alright, _now _I can imagine you as a child. You were probably insufferable."

Cullen shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

Jille laughed again. By then, they were at the entrance to the Main Hall. The woman slowly removed the pelt from her shoulders and held it between both hands, looking down.

"That was my first snowball fight."

The commander blinked. "Really?"

"Really. I didn't have many friends as a child, and after my magic was discovered, well… Circles aren't usually too keen on letting their charges play outside."

Jille gathered the bundle in her hands and threw it around Cullen's back, grasping at the ends and tugging it around his neck once more. She leaned in close to adjust the length, causing Cullen to freeze in place. Then, distracted for a moment, she smiled and ran her hands along the silly feathered edges that she liked so much. They fit him much better than they did her. She looked up. The man was facing straight ahead, his jaw set like steel and his gaze motionless. From where she was standing it looked like he was unaffected by her presence, maybe even tired of it, waiting for it to be over. The truth of it, though, was that Cullen was trying with every ounce of his strength not to look down into the wide golden eyes and soft pink lips that he knew were staring expectantly up at him. Trying, and failing. However, before his will completely broke, Jille stepped away.

"Thank you for the pelt, and be careful in the snow – it looks like the storm's intent on returning." She said absently.

"Ah. Yes. Thank you, Inquisitor."

She opened the door and Cullen turned around, starting to head back down the steps, but Jille froze halfway through the entryway. She turned back, and, much to her surprise, found that Cullen had done the same. Their eyes met and both immediately looked away – then, looked back.

Jille smiled. "And Cullen?"

His own smile reappeared, shaky but bright. "Yes?"

"Let's play in the snow again sometime."

He grinned, pulling the collar of his cloak farther down with one hand. "Any time."


End file.
